Fleeting
by KaleidoscopeKate
Summary: Neville, Ginny, and Luna live in the outskirts of glory, always left out of the Golden Trio's adventures. But the story of death, battles, and Horcruxes is also a love story- and let's not forget that nasty memory spell hiding it all.
1. Readings

**A/N**:

This is the first chapter of my new HP story, Fleeting! Just a heads-up: POV changes!, so hopefully knowing that will help keep you from getting confused. Enjoy! xoxo.

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><p><strong>Readings<strong>

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><p>I was always fascinated by her eyes. I know, I know, it's cliché, but it's true. They were exquisite, appearing to be made of glass—so pale and delicate it felt like I should be able to see right through them into her skull and head and brain. Gladly, I could not.<p>

The other thing was how completely unique they were. They appeared to be green from a normal distance, but up close you could see they were baby blue, with silver of gold around each of her pupils. They gave merely the illusion of green, the illusion of matching the rest of her huge family. But she didn't match. She was different.

I envied her for her family. I think it might have been part of why I felt that way about her.

I've kind of always had an eye fetish, however creepy it sounds. It was the first thing I noticed about a person. I found meaning in eyes, and although I had no social skills to speak of, eyes just... made sense to me?

Dark indigo, mysterious, dreamy and calm. Always hiding, holding back.

Pale grey, simple, peaceful, and sweet. Easy to read and soothing to see.

The green, the noble, self-doubting green, the envied green.

And lastly, gold-and-blue, radiant, confident, and unpredictable, but unfailingly steadfast and kind.

You might wonder why I was so close to her to begin with, close enough to notice that about her eyes. You might make assumptions. Well your guesses are partly right, in the sense that yes—we kissed—but you're not quite as right as I wish you were.

The story starts in my third year, and…well, I suppose I'll let you know when it's finished.

It's a long story, but I have time if you do.

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><p>I used to notice the way he looked at Luna. It was precious. I knew they'd make an adorable couple, and I told him so. But he was always too nervous to say anything, and she was so off in her own little world, it was almost as if she'd never considered the prospect of dating.<p>

I confronted her about it—it turned out you could get away with a great deal of nosiness when everyone thought of you as their friend's little sister (_especially_ the ones you _really_ didn't want to, cough, cough). And if I widened my eyes, and pouted my lips just a TEENSY bit? Anything I wanted to know, I knew.

Hermione told me she liked Ron all the way back in my first year. Course, I wasn't much up for any matchmaking at that point, but hey—HARRY didn't even know. I suppose that's not a good argument; there's a lot Harry didn't know.

Like how when I saw him looking at her with her long, swishing, stick-straight dark hair, it's possible that I might have wanted to curse her just a little bit. Unforgivably so, if you catch my drift.

I'm over it now obviously; we laugh about it. I tell him he never stood a chances with her, and he acts hurt and then laughs and kisses me.

What was I talking about? Right, Luna! So, I confronted her about the Neville thing. It was funny, her reaction. It wasn't surprise, or disgust, or disinterest—she definitely seemed interested. Maybe she wasn't allowed to date yet? It would explain a lot, and I wouldn't put it past ol' Xenophilius, either.

Merlin, though, if I were in Luna's place….well, I would have been permanently grounded! I mean, we were both in our _third year_ already!

See, I hadn't told anyone but Hermione yet (to avoid risk of a murder by six mysterious red-headed figures), but I had gone out with Michael Corner the week before. It was just a date, we weren't _dating_ (although Michael was my second choice as a Yule Ball date—I was looking for any opportunity to get to go).

Still... I was a little disappointed that we didn't run into Harry during our romantic little Hogsmeade excursion. I would have wanted to see his reaction: was he jealous? Should I keep trying? Or did he even care? Would I have to get over my silly schoolgirl crush?

It wouldn't have been _too_ hard at the time—I suppose I did fancy Michael a bit, and certainly did a year later. Things _almost_ worked out between us, but let's just say I've been _much_ happier with the current arrangement. One might even call it being in love.

Blimey, bringing up all these schoolgirl crushes has really made me notice how much Rose and Lily have turned me into my 13-year-old self again. I can barely contain myself nowadays when they tell me who's dating who, or why Suzy's fighting with Sally, or whose mother sent him a Howler, or what the names of the fittest seventh-year Hufflepuffs are.

It's fun, I suppose, remembering those days. I always remember how fun they were. But when I really think about all the pettiness and our "pain," I realize it was a prelude to the _real_ pain. Still, teenage hormones never allowed anything to be simple.

What am I blabbering on for? The Luna thing. Crikes, that was ages ago. If I remember correctly, the conversation took place in the classroom of none other than Sybil Trelawney. It's funny how I actually kind of miss her. (I always stuck with Divination, though I was rather horrid at it—I'm ashamed to admit it was a bit of a blow-off class.) She still teaches at Hogwarts; Lily's in her class—she practically _begged_ to take it. Hermione disapproved strongly, having forbid Rose and Hugo from taking it, but we weren't quite that opposed.

It was Luna who got Lily so interested in Divination to begin with. She always had a knack for it, and was the only one who maintained that Trelawney was completely sane. Maybe Divination really is real, and the rest of us just don't get it. It would explain a lot about the pair of them, that's for sure.

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><p>We had just finished our lessons on crystal balls. It was a lengthy couple of weeks; I just stared and stared and saw things. Professor Trelawney spent the whole while lecturing, because rather oddly, no one else seemed to be seeing anything at all (beyond what they thought to be a cloud, which happened every blink of a Nargle or so). I didn't know why, but I saw loads of things, and every time I tilted the glass so much as a wrackspurt's eyelash, I saw loads <em>more<em>. Loads about Harry.

I saw something about everything, really. My future, too. It was nice, not having to worry, because I knew it would all be all right. Divination really is a lovely gift. I believe it's quite underappreciated. Professor Trelawney said I could be a Seer, if I wanted.

I was always the last to leave the classroom. By the time I finished with everything I'd seen, the next class had arrived, with several students waiting to take my table. It was a class of Gryffindors my age; Ginny was one of them. It was a rather small class—most Gryffindors didn't seem to be particularly fond of Divination, though I've not an inkling why.

She stopped me as I was finally leaving the room.

'Luna,' she hissed. 'Stay a minute longer. I need to talk to you.'

I glanced at the small hourglass hanging around my neck. The periwinkle sand was severely imbalanced between the two chambers.

'I have Potions now,' I told her. 'But I don't believe it'll be a problem. Professor Snape is so accommodating, I'm sure he'll understand.'

Ginny scrunched up her eyes for a minute, then moved her shoulders up and down in a quick gesture which I didn't quite understand. I sat next to her.

'Hello,' I told the other boy and girl at the table. They widened their eyes politely in return.

'So, Luna.' Ginny leaned in close, her dragon-breath hair falling in front of her face. 'Neville. What do you think of him?'

Neville. He was a very nice boy, an excellent friend of mine.

'Well, I suppose I think of him on occasion, but not to a great extent. I believe I'm rather fond of him,' I told her.

Ginny looked up at the ceiling, her eyes swirling in a rather strange fashion. I wasn't sure why she did it, because after a moment she looked right back at me. I suppose she didn't find what she was looking for up there. 'Luna, he likes you,' she said rather seriously.

I smiled, as it didn't seem so serious a matter to me, unless of course Neville was a crumple-horned snorkack, since they tend to brutally kill those they're particularly fond of. 'That's wonderful,' I told her. 'I like him, too. I suppose that means we're good mates.'

Ginny must have taken a very big breath, because all of a sudden she had lots of air to exhale and it made a rather noticeable noise. 'Luna. I mean he fancies you. He's interested in you. He has romantic feelings for you? A crush, Luna? He wants to date you. Snog you. He thinks it's possible that after a while, if you _do _end up dating, and things go well, he might fall in love with you, and if things continue to go well, you might get married and have kids and grow old together.' Ginny paused. 'In other words, he thinks of you as more than a "good mate".'

There was a kidney-mouthed crecion's heartbeat of silence. 'Well, I'm not sure what I think about that,' I said.

'Well, do you fancy him or not?'

I thought about that for a moment. The idea of dating or kissing or marrying Neville. It was a new idea. But not a bad one.

'Yes,' I told her. 'I suppose it's possible I might.'

'Really?' Ginny smiled rather widely, so that her mouth was a sideways crescent and I could see her teeth. There was a Furley's pixie nesting in her bottom-right molar.

'I believe so.'

'Well,' she began. 'is it all right if I tell him that? I mean, do you want him to ask you out?'

I thought a bit more. In particular, I thought about an image I'd seen in the crystal ball just a few minutes earlier.

It was myself, an older me. A man had his arm around me. My head was on his shoulder. In each of our laps was a rather plump, blond infant; the little boys appeared to be Gemini.

The man was nice-looking and smiling, and quite handsome, with short brown hair and big, dark eyes. I knew exactly who he was, and what he would mean to me. He wasn't Neville.

'I don't think so, Ginny.'

Ginny looked rather taken aback. 'What? Why not?'

'I don't see it,' I told her, rolling the glimmering sphere between my palms. 'It's'—I felt a bit like Lavender Brown or Cho Chang then—'not meant to be.'

Ginny's mouth hung wide open. 'You're going to let a piece of _glass_ decide who you date?'

I remember I smiled at the time. 'It's not meant to be. Neville is a great friend of mine.' I believe she thought I was a bit mental.

I look over at my husband, currently preoccupied with the task of bundling Lorcan into a miniature parka. Lysander begins to bawl.

'Ly-Ly,' I croon, lifting him delicately. "Mummy's here, it's all right." I hand Roly a tiny blue hat embroidered with Nargles, then stretch a matching red on around Lysander's little head. We rush outside and collapse in the snow, which makes the Gemini giggle and crawl around excitedly. I tell Rolf that they are already well on the way to becoming quite excellent little marble-toothed cluntchey hunters, as the creatures love to hide in snow banks.

Funnily, but not strangely at all, the Gemini are Gemini. They were born the June before last.

The image I saw in the crystal ball that day is one I saw again two weeks ago, when we took the picture. It's to be our Christmas card this year.

Rolf wraps his arms around my waist and his lips fall softly on the top of my head.

I might have had feelings for Neville, but it was never meant to be.

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><p><strong>AN:** Please review, I'd love to hear what you have to say!

~KaleidoscopeKate


	2. Defying Fate

**Defying Fate**

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><p>Ginny had told me she'd talk to Luna, but the next day, she told me she'd changed her mind. She didn't think that it was wise to meddle in my love life, is what she said. Which wasn't even possible, considering it didn't exist. I asked Ethan, the boy who sits with Ginny in Divination (that's when she planned to talk to Luna), but I think he was a bit worried dthat someone would see him talking to me.<p>

Great, even though I've got a year on the kid, he _still_ thinks I'm a git.

He answered my question—yes, Ginny had talked to Luna—but he wasn't sure what about or for how long and hadn't paid attention to either of their reactions, and seemed a slight bit wary about the fact that I was asking these questions to begin with.

Understandably. I must've been acting rather dodgy, although it seemed perfectly normal to my oblivious fourteen-year-old self.

So Ginny had talked to Luna, but for whatever reason she'd decided to pretend she hadn't. By 'whatever reason,' of course, I meant the reason that it hadn't gone well. That Luna didn't feel the same about me, and Ginny didn't want to tell me.

I didn't know why she thought that would be better. If I knew, I could move on. But she didn't want to be the one to hurt me. And later, when she did, she never meant to.

She was a good mate—an excellent mate—one of the few real mates I had, and certainly the only one I could really tell anything to. At least for most of my Hogwarts career.

I glance at the photo on my desk, taken exactly twenty years ago. My arm is around her. Only in a platonic way, but still—my arm is around her. Of course, so is someone else's, the one who I never stood a chance compared to. He was _the Chosen One_, and not just by ol' You-Know-Poo. I laugh at the younger version of myself, with his sidelong glances at Harry Potter. I'd forgotten how jealous I used to be.

On the other side of youthful me is Luna, who hasn't aged a day in a score. Her eyes are exactly the same—such a dark blue that they're nearly violet. Every once in a while, when she stares off into space completely, Hermione and Mini-Me alternate tapping her to direct her attention back to the camera.

Hermione looks eerily the same, although nowadays her figure has…erm, rounded out quite a bit. She's holding Ron's hand in the picture.

George is there, too, and Angelina, Bill, Fleur, Pavarti, Dean, Cho, Seamus, Percy….and Hannah. Even bloody Draco Malfoy. He managed to cooperate long enough for a picture, if you call standing at the edge of the frame with his hands stuffed in his pockets 'cooperating.'

The Daily Prophet, which had just began to get back on track after all the rubbish they'd printed before and during the war, had wanted a picture of the 'famed youth who'd saved the day.' (An excuse to dig into the social life of Harry Potter, as always.) So I wasn't quite sure why Malfoy was there.

But my eyes always drifted back to her, and her magnetic smile and soothing laughter. Her two-toned eyes and soft hair.

Oh, Merlin, I was pathetic, even today. Even after so much time, and so much change. I was in no way entitled to feel this way.

I remembered when we'd first become friends. It was in my third year, her second. How long ago? Twenty-one, two, three…. That was twenty-four years ago, nearly to the day.

It was before Christmas in Hogsmeade. In a week or two, we'd be going home, and none of the professors were too strict about anything. So we spent nearly all our time in the snowy village, exploring and shopping and laughing as we pleased.

With the weather, place, and lack of stress combined, it was a very difficult time to be anything other than happy.

Somehow I managed, though. Not that I was _un_happy. I just wasn't happy.

I was depressed about going home. The prospect of spending three weeks with my Gran wasn't my favourite idea. Three weeks of bran and flaxseed granola for breakfast, in her attempts to help me lose weight. Three weeks of her blandly-voiced suspicions that I was really a Squib, because the only subject I excelled in was Herbology. Three weeks of helping her and her Muggle friend Mrs. Plumley with their 'scrapbooks' or some rubbish like that.

I was drowning my self-pity in a bottle of butterbeer. Sometimes I'd pretend it was really Firewhiskey to make myself feel a bit more pathetic.

I glanced at a table on the other side of the Three Broomsticks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione—the 'Golden Trio,' as they'd come to be known—were sitting close, hunched over, whispering intensely, probably about their latest plot to save the day. I wanted in, desperately, secretly. But nope, it was the three of them, always the three of them, _only _the three of them.

Perhaps that's why Ginny and I got along so well. We were both on the outskirts of glory. Halfway-heroes, by association with the real ones. I could tell she wanted to be a part of it as much as I did. Being a victim the year before, being _rescued_ by Harry Potter rather than fighting evil by his side—she was devastated, mortified. But she never showed it.

'Why the long face, Neville?' She slid into the seat across from me after returning from the counter with her second butterbeer.

Dean and Seamus, who'd been chattering eagerly next to me a moment earlier, were suddenly silent and closely examining me. I wasn't sure if it was out of genuine concern or merely because Ginny had drawn attention to me—I believed they both had their eye on her. I found it rather amusing, only because it was before I did. Had my eye on her, I mean.

'Yeah, what's a'matter, mate?' Seamus asked, elbowing me with a grin.

I shook my head. 'I'm all right.' I managed a grin and quickly downed the last of my butterbeer.

'If you say so.' Dean shrugged and he and Seamus began talking again—although whispering this time. I followed their gazes to the counter, where the Patil twins were ordering drinks, having just walked in.

Ginny was still looking at me. Frowning. She took one last swig, then stood up and extended her hand. 'Come to Zonko's with me? I still need Christmas gifts for my brothers.'

I glanced at Dean and Seamus, who had already been noticed by the now-giggling Padma and Parvati and were completely distracted. 'Sure, why not.' I stood up. Her hand was still extended. I looked at it uneasily. She rolled her eyes, linked her arm in mine, and practically dragged me out the door.

'Spill it,' she demanded as soon as we were out of extendable earshot of anyone.

I sighed, but couldn't help smiling. 'I just don't want to go home,' I admitted. 'My gran's unbearable. That's all there is to it, really.' That wasn't all there was to it, but it was as sure as bloody hell all I planned on telling her.

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. 'Right. You're obviously having the time of your life here, I imagine your home life must be dreadful in comparison.'

Her words stung. I didn't _want_ to be such a gloomy hermit. At least it was comforting knowing she even cared. But I couldn't think of what to say to her, so I just shrugged and offered a weak smile.

'Right,' she repeated. 'You know, I was just saying Zonko's as an excuse to get you out of there, but d'you think a little detour might cheer you up a bit?

I didn't answer. I hadn't even heard what she said. Right around 'just saying,' I'd become completely distracted. There, right outside the Hog's Head, was the person I'd been trying not to think about, what I'd been trying to hide from Ginny.

Her blond hair was slightly disheveled by the weather, and topped by a Ravenclaw-hued cap, which appeared to be homemade, due to telltale lumps here and there.

She was perched on the front step, her nose buried in an upside-down book, so all that was visible were her dark blue eyes. 'A Comprehensive Guide to Dirigible Plums,' her book read, but as it was upside-down, I suppose she was really reading 'smulP elbigiriD oT ediuG evisneherpmoC A.'

'Neville? Are you all right?' Ginny stared at me, then traced my gaze all the way to Luna. Her mouth formed a round, wide 'O' as she put two and two together.

"So _that's_ what's _really_ bothering you!' she exclaimed excitedly. Her expression changed to a playful, teasing one. 'Someone's got a crush!' she singsonged.

I felt my cheeks grow warm. I wasn't used to having my face read so easily. None of my roommates understood me, neither did my Gran. Professor Snape certainly never understood me. Ginny was the only one who really ever did. She was my best friend. But I was never hers.

It sounds pathetic; that's because it was. Social skills came easily to some people; she was one of them. They didn't to others, others like me. Adolescence is an awkward time for everyone, sure. But Ginny made it look so painfully easy.

'You're not going to tell, are you?' I asked stupidly. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had told her no, it wasn't Luna I liked, but rather Ginny herself. Would it have been early enough then that I might have stood a chance? No, Ginny had liked Harry since even before she came to Hogwarts. Besides, the thought didn't even occur to me at the time—it was Luna I liked then, not Ginny.

'Of course not. But I don't promise I'm not going to play matchmaker!'

'No!' I cried, feeling myself blush even further, which I would never have thought possible. 'Please don't, Gin.'

'All right, all right, take it easy,' she laughed, patting my arm. 'Promise you'll do it yourself then.'

'What?'

'Ask her out.'

'You're bonkers!'

'At least go talk to her?'

I pondered this for a moment. Seeing how I hadn't flat-out refused, Ginny pounced. 'Now's your chance! She's alone, and looks calm and approachable—course, she's always that way, I suppose. But honestly! Here's your opportunity! How much better can it get?'

I frowned. 'I'd hate to interrupt her reading.'

I was starting to learn that Ginny rolled her eyes a lot. 'Oh, honestly, Neville.'

'It's a valid concern!'

'Just do it. Now. I'm giving you to the count of ten before I do it for you.' She cocked an eyebrow, challenging me. 'One….'

I shuffled my feet uneasily.

'I'm not joking, Neville. Two.'

'Really, Gin, do you have to—'

'Three.'

'Oh, come off it—'

'Four.'

'Bloody hell, Ginny! Stop being an immature little prick! It's not your decision! Unless you're the one who likes Luna, which I'm bloody well sure is not the case, because you're always all googly over Harry, but all you'll ever be to him is his best friend's annoying little sister! That's all you are to ALL of us! Just a tagalong! So quit being an obnoxious little prat!'

There was a painfully prolonged silence. I couldn't believe what I'd just said. Shit. I hadn't meant it at all, I really hadn't. I regret that moment more than almost anything else. Almost.

Ginny's eyes were as round as watermelons, and about twice as wide. I could see the watery sheen beginning to form. She slowly opened her mouth, then closed it again. She turned on her heel and began to walk away.

I reached for her shoulder. 'Gin, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean a word of that, really I didn't.' She was still walking, completely ignoring me. 'Wait, Ginny! Please!' I whispered desperately. We were starting to draw attention.

She whirled around. Her cheeks and eyes were a matching pink. Her angry eyes glared up at me expectantly, and I saw her lip tremble. I've seen that face only once since.

'I honestly can't believe I just say that, Ginny. Not a word—no, not a fucking LETTER of it was true. Complete bullshit.' I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking of what the hell I could say after being such an arse. 'I'm sorry I'm a complete git, Gin. No one thinks that about you. Hell, you fit in loads better than I do. I was just stressed out. You can slap me, if you want. If it would make you feel better.'

She grinned just the slightest bit. MERLIN. I could breathe again.

'It's okay, Nev. I accept your apology. I'm sorry I pressured you, I shouldn't have done that in the first place.' She wiped her eye, leaving a tiny smudge of black mascara, and extended her arms to me. 'Come here, you big git.'

I chuckled, relieved, and embraced her. Suddenly, there was a noise and my left cheek stung like hell. 'Ow!' I cried, drawing back in shock.

Ginny wore an amused smirk. 'You know,' she said pensively. 'I think that _did_ make me feel better.'

I shook my head, grinning, and hugged her again. When we pulled apart this time, I turned to see Padma, Parvati, Dean, and Seamus staring at the two of us, wide-eyed.

'Are you two….' Padma couldn't seem to find the words. 'You know….'

'Together?' Parvati finished.

Ginny and I looked at each other incredulously, then burst out laughing.

'Me dating Ginny,' I snorted.

'The very idea,' she agreed between giggles.

'No, we're not,' I informed the quartet, wiping away tears of laughter.

'Farthest thing from it,' she assured them, gasping for breath.

Dean and Seamus looked noticeably relieved to hear this, and even managed halfhearted chuckles.

'It just looked….' Parvati exchanged a sidelong glance with her sister.

'Almost like….' Padma bit her lip.

'Never mind,' Parvati said quickly, and Padma nodded vigorously in overly enthused agreement.

Ginny and I didn't talk any more that day. She went off with the four of them, and….well, I talked to Luna.

I remember wanting to die of embarrassment. It was probably about a fifteen-second conversation at most, consisting of both of us acknowledging the other's existence. But it was a start, I figured.

Blimey, did I figure wrong. I run my finger along the photo's engraved frame and can't help but smile.

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><p>I quickly became Neville's confidante, answering questions about anything and everything. I was only twelve, and had never kissed a boy or even been on a date, but I was still eons ahead of Neville in that department, and found that for whatever questions he had, I had an answer. He soon got over his secretiveness regarding his adorable crush on Luna, at least when he was only around me. This became the central topic for most of our conversations.<p>

'She looked at me for three and a half seconds straight, Ginny!'

'Really?' I clapped my hands together excitedly.

'Yeah. But then she looked away.'

'Well, did she look back?'

'Yeah, after six seconds.'

'Neville, that means she likes you!' I squealed.

'I dunno, she seemed a bit creeped.'

'Creeped? How so?'

'Like she was wondering why I kept staring at her.'

'Oh.'

Christmas was tough. I would never have expected to miss him as much as I did. And twenty Christmases later, I still miss him.

We were just friends then. That was the drill.

The one good thing about Christmas was that it was a few weeks with Harry all to myself—well, without competition, anyway. I'd known for a year about Hermione liking Ron, so she was no threat to me. Besides her, I was the only eligible female at the Burrow! No doting fangirls here to steal his attention away.

I peer out the window, where my husband and children are in the midst of a vicious snowball fight—no, that's too tame a word—it's a full-blown war out there. Although my youngest is already eleven, I have a feeling they'll never outgrow snowball fights.

He glances up; his glasses are foggy from warm breath in the crystal air. He can't help but smile when he catches my eye. It's funny remembering how I used to have to fight for his attention. I waggle my fingers in return, and stick out my tongue, then glance at the aromatic pot of brown liquid on the stove. With a flick of my wand, I give it another couple stirs, then pour it all into five large mugs, topped with generous amounts of whipped cream, marshmallows, and finally a candy cane.

I crack the window, call, 'HOT COCOA!', and suddenly the battle is forgotten and eight feet are racing eagerly inside.

It must've been that very same year, the Christmas of my second year, that Luna had a Christmas party. Yes, it was—I remember, even though my birthday wasn't until August, I endlessly rubbed in the fact that I was almost thirteen. I was already counting down, reminding them all of how I was nearly a teenager, and I should be allowed to act like one. My purpose? Convincing them to let me play 'Spin-the-butterbeer-bottle' with them. It was a kissing game, they told me, based on something stupid that Muggles like to play at parties.

Well, the prospect of kissing sure sounded pretty okay to me.

Mum had concerns about Xenophilius' capabilities as far as supervision for the party. Honestly, I can't say I recall even seeing him there. But of course, no one mentioned that to Mum.

Luna was lenient as to her guest list—just invited a few people and told them to spread the word, then waited for everyone to show up. While several people were turned off by the idea of a party at 'Loony's', several older kids showed up, really only because they were friends with Fred and George. Everyone thought they were just SO cool—blimey—FIFTH years. It was mainly third-years, and me, the baby (it really wasn't fair how Luna managed to escape that label). But the real hype was because Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet,and Lee Jordan (I really should owl them, it's been far too long) as well as Angelina, Fred, and George were all there.

'Absolutely not!' Ron shouted. 'You are NOT playing.'

'What am I supposed to do then, Ron? Sit in the corner there and twiddle my thumbs?' I yelled back. 'I'm almost thirteen! I can bloody well play if I want to.'

Luna entered the room with a tray of sweets. 'Pudding, anyone?'

'Oh, come off it,' Katie interjected. 'Let the girl play.'

'I'll tell you what, Ginny.' Lee got a mischievous look on his face, as he did quite often. 'If they don't let you play, you and I will step into the broom closet over there and we'll both, er, twiddle our thumbs, _together._' He waggled his eyebrows, making me giggle. Fred and George, on either side of him, instantly tackled him.

'What the hell, mate!' George shoved him.

'That's our baby sister!' Fred agreed angrily, punching his arm.

'I'm not your baby sister,' I glared, but had I known, I would have buried myself in his arms, told him to call me his baby sister again, and would never have let go.

'Good one, though,' George commented while holding Lee in a head lock.

'Yeah, just not on Ginny next time.' Fred gave him a ferocious noogie.

The twins finally released Lee, and Ron grumpily agreed to let me play. 'But,' he growled, glaring at every male in the room, 'anything more than a peck, and….' he glanced at Fred and George, who drew their wands across their necks in identical gestures while their heads flopped down and tongues dangled out. 'Understood?' Ron demanded. The boys all nodded eagerly.

'Why do they always do this to me….' I muttered, but decided to be content with getting to play, and took a seat between George and Dean.

'I'll just set them here, then, if anyone wants any,' Luna informed us, putting the sweets on a table across the room and coming to join the circle.

We were sitting Harry-Ron-Hermione-Michael-Dean-Me-George-Lee-Fred-Alicia-Angelina-Katie-Seamus-Padma-Parvati-Luna-Neville-Hannah-Ernie.

Merlin, how _do_ I remember that?

'Who's up first?' Seamus made the mistake of asking.

'You are,' Angelina replied with an evil grin.

With a gulp and a shaking hand, Seamus spun the bottle, and after a couple noisy spins with bated breath, it pointed to a wide-eyed Parvati. She was mortified, pulled away as soon as his lips touched hers.

He ran his fingers through his hair, blushing deeply, and Katie gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

'You're up, mate!' George exclaimed, jabbing Lee. He spun with a devilish smile, at it landed on….Hermione. Ron frowned. She rolled her eyes at Lee's winking and puckered up.

That was an interesting night, for sure. Nearly everyone ended up kissing everyone at some point. There were two exceptions: Neville, who had nervously opted to 'just watch,' a decision that led to much unsuccessful pleading, and Luna, who, curiously, the bottle simply never seemed to land on. Of course, that was a year before the 'it's not meant to be' conversation, so I just assumed that was the kind of 'luck' (although _I _certainly wouldn't call it that) that Luna had. She didn't seem to mind, or really even notice one way or the other—mostly, she just played the role of the good little hostess, continually offering more pudding—but it would've driven _me_ crazy to go a whole game of Spin-the-butterbeer-bottle without kissing a _single_ person.

My adolescent hormones and I had an, erm, _complicated_ relationship.

I got a little peck from Harry that night, you know. I also ended up kissing Michael, who lingered just a tad longer than necessary, to my brother's dismay and anger. Lee, too—again, the three of them were tomato-colored. Dean was my last kiss of the night—he, like a gentleman, opted for a kiss on the cheek, but that might have only been because I had kissed three other _males_ on the _lips_ in front of my brothers, who were about to explode.

I also ended up kissing Hermione, Angelina, Hannah, and Padma (a series of equally awkward pecks made as brief as possible by both parties). I even got matched with Ron _and_ with Fred, but it was universally agreed that in these circumstances a kiss on the cheek and-slash-or head was acceptable.

I had kissed seven people (on the _lips!_) that night, the first night I'd kissed anyone at all. I can't say I'm particularly proud of it, but it could've been worse, considering how crazy the adrenaline and hormones and too much butterbeer and cookies had made me. Of course, I couldn't have gotten _too_ too crazy with three older brothers staring down my neck, but still. Still.

Michael Corner, of all people, was my first kiss, and in a silly little game of Spin-the-butterbeer-bottle, too.

And he doesn't even remember it.

* * *

><p>It was the first time I had felt not quite at ease. After talking to Ginny, I knew it wasn't meant to be between me and Neville, but I wanted it so badly to be. I hadn't thought of dating before, but it seemed like something that might be nice. Despite what had happened at the Yule Ball (or, more accurately, what hadn't happened), I still wanted to be with him.<p>

It was irrational and I knew it wouldn't last, but that didn't seem to stop most of my peers.

I suppose I did end up kissing him, although it depends on who you ask.

It was my third year. I remember Harry, Ron, and Hermione were always rushing about, searching for this or that clue, and working out strategies to keep Harry from dying in the Triwizard Tournament. I knew he would be fine. I'd seen it, after all.

I'd been practicing a memory charm, and sometimes I thought about casting it on myself. I thought that it would be nice to forget the image in the crystal ball. I didn't like knowing how my feelings were defying fate.

Daddy told me a story once, about an old friend named Rhys who tried a memory spell on himself one time. Apparently, he had cheated on his wife, and felt so guilty that he wanted to forget every bit of it. He said it didn't go quite as it should. Rhys had ended up forgetting he even had a wife.

I couldn't imagine it had been a pretty picture, but I knew why Rhys had done it. I wanted to be able to be with Neville without feeling like I was cheating, although I had no reason to feel that way. Not at that moment, at least. But I felt confused, which was a feeling I was neither used to nor fond of.

I just needed to practice it more, so it wouldn't backfire.

But practice, as it seemed, took a bit too long.

It was in the midst of things, the dragons, the mermaids. Neville was so happy at the time, he finally felt like a part of things when Harry needed him. He was finally needed. A simple consultation, a simple answer. Gillyweed.

I had been in there with Neville. We had been studying.

'You look rather pleased, Neville,' I observed after Harry had gone. 'That was wise advice you gave Harry, wasn't it?'

Neville grinned and held up his book. 'It's lucky I'd just got to that section. Harry'll think I just knew it, like that.'

'I think you and Professor Sprout are the only ones who can even understand all the terminology in Herbology books, Neville,' I told him. 'It's very impressive.'

His cheeks grew curiously pink. 'Thanks, Luna.'

'You're growing rather red, Neville,' I told him. 'Perhaps you should take off your sweater, it is quite warm in here.'

'Oh. I'm all right.' As he said this, his face became even redder, but I decided to let it go.

'I'm sure Harry's rather grateful you helped him.'

'I hope it works,' he said, chewing on his quill. I could hardly imagine it tasted good. 'It was a spur-of-the-moment suggestion, not guaranteed.' He suddenly grew panicked, and his eyes were as wide as a yondrey's mouth. 'Oh, Merlin. He'd better not drown. If Harry Potter drowns, and I'm responsible- I mean, what if I was wrong? What if gillyweed was the exact _wrong_ thing to use? If Harry Potter drowns, it'll be like I killed him! I've got to go tell him! He can't use gillyweed! Crikes, Luna, I've killed Harry Potter!' He leaped to his feet. 'I've got to find him!'

In the first and last act of impulsivity I believe I'll ever have, I grabbed him by the hand, pulled him down to me, and kissed him.

I remember was nice. Our lips touched softly at first, then pulled away slowly, then touched again, more confident, more excited, more curious, more-the emotions were overwhelming, I couldn't name them anymore. It was rather disorienting.

I pulled away from him, and looked at his face. His eyes were still closed for a moment, the moment I still have a frozen picture of in my mind. He looked so happy. I had made him happy.

And then they opened, opened on me. I averted my gaze down to my book, lying open on the table.

'Luna, I- I-what's wrong?' He sat back down beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head. 'Not- meant-'

'Luna, I don't...' he trailed off. I looked up for a fleeting moment to see him look confused, hurt, and maybe a little bit in love.

'To be,' I finished decisively, pushing past him and rushing out of the library. I only looked back once, when I knew he couldn't see me.

I decided that I had made up my mind. I knew I couldn't do the charm on myself, but I didn't understand anymore. I had to do something. Fate was angry with me, I knew.

I look down at the little boy cradled in my arms, nearly asleep. 'But that doesn't justify what Mummy did, little one,' I sing, and his eyes droop slowly. 'Mummy made a terrible mistake...'

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Please review! It takes so little time and makes me so happy :)


	3. Simplicity

**A/N:** To the anonymous reviewer called Bug: I wish you had an account so I could have responded to you sooner, haha! But thank you for your correction about Hermione (I was totally oblivious), and to answer your question...well, let's just say this is a canon pairing fic, but there are a few bumps along the way. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Simplicity<strong>

* * *

><p>'You all right, Nev?' A hand touched my shoulder, causing me to jolt and turn around quickly. Her pale gray eyes widen at my reaction. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.'<p>

Standing up quickly, I pull her toward me, causing her to gasp a little, then giggle. 'I guess we're both a hair jumpy today,' I observe.

'Things are certainly mad around this time of year,' she agrees. 'Everyone wants into the Alley for Christmas shopping. Most of them aren't even in here to buy drinks! But they're taking my precious table space, and I have to keep customers waiting, and I can barely even get across the room, it's so bloody crowded!' When she gets frustrated, I'm reminded of a certain young girl who broke down in the middle of Herbology class so many years ago. O.W.L.s had seemed so important then.

I take her reddening cheeks between my hands and gently kiss her lips. It's all so simple, being with her. No pain or misgivings or second thoughts. Everything is right.

'Lie down a moment. I'll make you a cocoa,' I tell her, flicking my wand toward the mantel. A fire roars to life, then settles at a cozy crackle.

'I don't want you to make me cocoa,' she retorts. 'You never add enough chocolate, and it tastes all milky.'

'Your cocoa is sickeningly sweet,' I inform her. 'Your dentist will thank me for rewiring your taste buds.'

'Forget the cocoa,' she laughs, pulling away from me, then collapsing on the king-sized bed a few feet away. 'I just need to lie down. It's been a long day.'

'Well, can I get you anything else, then?'

'No,' she says with a mischievous smile, drawing out the long "O" sound. 'I want you to lie down with me.'

God, never mind all these bloody unresolved feelings I've got bouncing around in my head. I'm madly in love with Hannah Longbottom.

* * *

><p>It was cold in the empty corridors, but I couldn't sleep. It wasn't the first time I had snuck out of my dorm, nor would it be the last.<p>

Harry had completed the second task earlier that day, and I, in all my schoolgirl crushing, had been ecstatic and distracted and loopy ever since. I had sent angry thoughts his way after the Yule Ball, but it was really more regret, and then months later he had to go and be such a self-sacrificing git and make me mad over him again.

Hell, he's _still_ a self-sacrificing git.

Ron and Hermione were both in terrible shape for similar reasons. Ron was beyond furious at Hermione's being chosen as Viktor Krum's hostage, and Hermione. Well.

The last place both of us would ever go to willingly was the place we both ended up, probably because we thought no one would ever find us there.

Between being possessed by Voldemort, being turned into a cat, the remnants of the Chamber still smashed in a corner, not to mention Moaning Myrtle, the second floor bathroom wasn't exactly full of happy memories for the either of us.

Yet we were both there.

'Hermione?' I gasped rather loudly.

Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright. Her hair was so thick that even though she'd been leaning back in the water, it had only been half-submerged. The result was a comical combination of stringy dark strands clinging to her skin and lighter, dry ones poofing outward in their naturally untamable fashion.

'Ginny!' Caught extremely off-guard, she self-consciously crossed her arms across her bare chest. 'What are you doing here?'

'Couldn't sleep,' I replied, politely averting my eyes. 'Decided to take a walk. Maybe a bath, if I hadn't run into you,' I laughed quietly.

'Er, turn around a moment, Gin, and let me get a towel,' Hermione requested, and I complied.

'All right,' she said a moment later, and I turned back. She had covered herself in a faded green towel and was letting the water out of the bathtub.

I perched on the rim of the tub, and she sat beside me a moment later. 'How're you doing?' I asked, not because I didn't know, but because I wasn't sure what else to say.

'I've been better,' she laughed. 'And yourself?'

'You could say the same,' I admitted shyly. 'What's wrong?' I asked, though I already knew.

She laughed and reached out to begin braiding my hair. 'You first. Then I'll talk.'

I was quiet for a moment, deciding what to tell her. It was more than just my immature fancies that were bothering me, but if I told her what had happened at the Yule Ball, it would just complicate things to an unnecessary level.

'Well, I still like Harry,' I laughed a little, embarrassed. This was by no means the first of our late-night girl-on-girl chats, but it was the first in several months (although the object of neither of our affections had changed). She had stayed over at the Burrow plenty of times, and due to the lack of female members of my family, always shared my room. 'It's just been hard lately. He asked Luna to the Yule Ball, can you believe it? But only because Cho was going with Cedric. I can't believe she went with him, either, without telling me. I mean she's got to know I fancy him! Honestly, who doesn't? I haven't talked to him at all lately.' I felt immature and petty, but, luckily, out of all the people whose opinion I had to worry about, Hermione was not one of them.

I winced when she pulled a strand of my hair a bit too tightly. 'Sorry.'

'It's all right. In the trial today,' I continued somewhat awkwardly. 'He was so…brave, and selfless?'

'You wished it was you underwater that he was risking his life for,' Hermione finished knowingly.

I blushed and held up my wrist so she could take a hair tie to fasten the braid. 'It's silly, I know. He doesn't feel the same way. How could he?'

Hermione turned my head to look at her. 'Listen here, Ginevra Molly Weasley. You're intelligent, beautiful, kind, and charming. I know this is by no means original, but that doesn't make it any less true when I say I know that someday you'll find the right bloke. You're thirteen, with your whole future ahead of you. If you end up with Harry, great. If not, you'll end up with someone just as incredible, who hopefully isn't as much of a blockhead.' She smiled. 'Your hair looks nice braided. You should wear it this way more often.'

'Thanks. It's your turn now,' I say quietly, pulling her head full of half-dry hair toward me to create a masterpiece of my own. 'Talk.'

'You'll think I'm a total hypocrite.' She shakes her head.

'Ron?' I comb through her tangled mats with my hands.

'Always,' she sighs. 'Your brother is a git.'

'Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.'

Hermione's pent-up feelings exploded all of a sudden. 'First he yells at me for going to the Yule Ball with Viktor. Today, when we were both called to Dumbledore's office, he glared at me the whole time. And you believe it, he cornered me afterward, asking "what exactly did I think I was doing with that kind of bloke." And I slapped him. I really did! And then I ran away and cried. And now Viktor's invited me to spend the summer with him, and I'm thinking I might, but Ron went and gave me the evil eye. I mean, honestly. I know he's jealous, but he's always been a prat to me! Is that how he picks up girls? He missed his chance, Ginny! Don't you think?'

'I-'

'I don't want him to miss his chance. I just want him to treat me as something other than a bug in his pumpkin juice,' she said grumpily.

I couldn't help but crack a smile. 'Listen here, Hermione Jean Granger,' I began in a soothing voice.

She laughed tearfully and gave me a shove. 'I _said_ it was hypocritical,' she reminded me.

'A little,' I admitted, and we fell into a companionable silence.

An annoying and high-pitched voice coughed pointedly from behind me.

I groaned inwardly. Of course.

'How long have you been listening to us, Myrtle?' I demanded, turning to look behind me.

Good ol' Moaning Myrtle slid out of a stall, arms folded, and hovered threateningly above me. 'I couldn't help but overhear you talking about Harry Potter,' she accused.

'What's it to you, Myrtle?' Hermione asked tiredly. _Here we go again,_ her expression told me.

'I would've thought any girl who had a _prayer _of being with him would be prettier,' she taunted nasally, staring me down.

'Erm,' I managed.

'And that's why you don't have a prayer, Myrtle,' Hermione snapped.

Myrtle made a face at her. 'I'll have you know we took a bath together today in the Prefect's bathroom.'

'Erm,' I repeated.

'Jealous?' she smirked.

'Seems like you are,' Hermione retorted. 'A little worried that your obsession might not be into dead girls, Myrtle?'

Myrtle shrieked, and began sobbing and wailing uncontrollably while darting back and forth, in and out of stalls, through pipes, and circling around our heads.

'Myrtle! Shut up!'

'Myrtle!'

'I'm sorry, Myrtle, okay? Now shut it!'

'MYRTLE!'

With shaking sighs, Myrtle settled in the sink across the room. She stared at us hatefully over the rims of her glasses. 'You're just as insensitive as that Weasley boy you're in love with,' Myrtle sniffed at Hermione. 'You two are perfect for each other. And as for you, I'm going to tell everyone that comes in here that you're bonkers for Harry Potter,' she informed me.

'WHAT? No, Myr-'

'And, especially, I'm going to tell _him_ that you dream about him every night. I'll tell him you came in here and I saw you trying to brew a love potion for him, but it didn't work. I'll tell him-'

Harry likes to bring up this story, to my mortification. We were at the Three Broomsticks the first time I told it to him, and had been dating for five months. He couldn't stop laughing.

'And why would he believe you, Myrtle?' Hermione asked placidly.

Myrtle smiled rather smugly. 'Harry and I have something special.'

'Harry is alive, Myrtle. You're dead, and a right annoying ghost-prat at that,' Hermione snapped.

Myrtle stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed, then burst out into loud sobs that faded as she disappeared down a toilet.

'Are you sure that wasn't just a bit too harsh?' I asked, feeling guilty.

'She needed to be put in her place,' Hermione replied. 'It most certainly was not.'

'I guess,' I shrugged, and we were silent for a moment again.

The next part of this story, I've never told Harry. In fact, I've never told anyone.

'Truth or Dare, Ginny?' Hermione asked after a moment.

It was a Muggle game we often played during our lonely late hours at the Burrow. 'Dare,' I replied.

She looked around. There was so much potential for grossness in a bathroom. 'I dare you to pull a wad of hair out of the shower drain and chew on it.'

'Not happening.'

She sighed. 'Difficult as always, Gin.'

'This is why I always ask the questions,' I replied with a smile.

'Fine, fine,' she gave in. 'Ask away.'

'Did you kiss Viktor? The night of the Yule Ball?'

She chuckled. 'Should've known that one was coming.'

'Well, did you?'

'Yes,' she replied, challenging me to ask more.

'Oh, c'mon, you can't leave it at that,' I protested as I always did. 'Was it _real_ snogging or just a peck?'

'The rules entitle you to one truthful answer.'

'Hermione. Seriously.'

'Fine, fine. It was just a peck. And it was he who initiated it. I think he could tell it made me uncomfortable after that.'

'Do you wish it had been more?'

Hermione pondered this. 'I wouldn't have wanted to lead him on, I suppose. But…' she hesitated.

'But what?'

'But in a way, I'm curious. I mean, I've never _really_ snogged anyone before. I sometimes wonder what it's like.'

'There was Luna's Christmas party last year,' I reminded her. 'You kissed loads of people. Even me,' I chuckled.

'None of that was actual snogging,' she laughed. 'It was a series of forced, awkward little pecks. Except for Lee and Katie, of course.'

I shuddered at the memory. 'So you've never _actually_ snogged anyone?'

'Who on earth would I be snogging, Ginny?'

'Well, I don't know!'

'Have _you_ ever _really_ snogged anyone? Is there something I should know?'

'Well, no,' I admitted, thinking back to the Yule Ball. As much as I put on the air of knowing everything around Neville, I still had never been _really_ kissed.

'Do you want to?'

'I guess,' I said. 'I am a bit curious what it's like.'

'Me, too,' Hermione said slowly, and suddenly we were both eyeing each other very strangely.

'Do you want to find out?' I suggested.

What happened next was something that you may take the wrong way. You might think of me differently, but I can assure you it's not what you're thinking. Not that I'm homophobic, of course not. I love Charlie's boyfriend, and they're adorable together. But if you're thinking that, I just want to let you know that you're not correct.

The kisses I shared with Hermione Granger were nothing more than mutually platonic curiosity. We both wanted to know what it was like to really…well, snog. We laughed at the awkward parts and tried different things. But there was never anything between us. It was nothing more than if we had decided to go scuba diving together, because it was a Muggle sport neither of us had ever done and we thought it might be fun.

When Lily asked me who my first kiss was, I told her it was Michael Corner, the same as my first boyfriend. It was the truth. But my first _real_ kiss was different.

It wasn't a kiss of attraction, or passion, or teenage hormones. It was a kiss of pure, unconditionally trusting friendship. But I don't think that's what Lily was wanting to know.

When we pulled apart for the last time, it was because we could barely control our giggles anymore.

I went up to the sink to douse some water on my face, and wipe the tears of laughter from my cheeks. Dabbing my forehead with a paper towel, I looked in the mirror.

It felt like my pounding heart was stuck in my throat as I realized there was another gaping reflection standing behind my own.

Bloody Pansy Parkinson.

I whirled around. Hermione had noticed her by now, too- but, like me, she couldn't seem to find any words.

Pansy's gape closed, and settled into a satisfied smirk. 'Well, things have certainly taken a turn for the interesting tonight,' she chirped.

'Pansy-' I started to explain.

'I was just wandering along the corridors in the middle of another sleepless night,' she sighed dramatically, striding over to the sink and twisting the faucet on. 'Heard some funny noises in here so I thought I'd take a peek.'

She turned the water off, shook her hands dry, and placed them on her hips. Her piercing gaze flitted between Hermione and me. 'I can honestly say I never expected this!' she cackled to herself. 'This'll be top breakfast table news for tomorrow, I should think.'

I took a step forward. 'Pansy Parkinson, you will do no such thing. Hermione and I were just-'

'Oh, I saw what you were doing,' she laughed. 'Trust me, I _saw_ what you were doing.'

Hermione whipped her wand out. 'You'd better watch it, you little—'

'Going to hex me now, are you?' Pansy fake-pouted. 'I'm shaking.'

'I'm serious, you prat.'

'And what'll happen when I tell?' She smiled innocently. 'It's going to take more than a threat to keep me quiet, Granger. What I want to know is, what's in it for me?'

'Please, Pansy. We'll do anything,' I begged.

'Aww, isn't that tragic, a secret love,' Pansy sighed. 'So desperate to keep it hidden. I have to admit I'm surprised, Weasley. Although,' she paused, 'I suppose I do recall it runs in the family.'

'You don't talk like that about my brother,' I barked. 'You make me sick.'

Pansy cackled again. 'I would highly advise against blatantly insulting me right now, Weasley.' She ran her thumb and forefinger down her wand. 'You don't exactly have the upper hand.'

'Can we skip the small talk already? What do you want from us, Parkinson?' Hermione demanded.

Pansy's eyes were startlingly violet as she looked directly up at us. For a moment, she almost looked human as she took in a slow breath. 'A love potion,' she said.

Hermione and I were equally taken aback.

'Er, sorry? You want… a love potion? The little vials you can buy three for a Sickle at Zonko's?' I asked in disbelief.

Pansy scoffed. 'No, not _that_ kind of love potion. I mean one that will actually work. I've tried brewing them myself from our Potions textbook, but,' she shrugged in an uncharacteristic expression of defeat, 'what can I say. I'm horrid with Potions. And that's why this little encounter was just my luck, Granger. I need you to make it for me.' She smiled again, brightly, sickeningly sweetly.

'Let me get this straight. You could have us do anything you want, but you're having us make you a love potion,' Hermione stated bluntly.

'What's it to you?' Pansy demanded. 'You get me what I want, your little secret stays secret.'

'Who's the potion for?'

'None of your business, Granger,' Pansy snapped.

'Well, I sort of need to know that to make the potion.'

'Oh. Er. Right. It's for…for. It's,' Pansy stammered, then closed her eyes. 'It's for Draco Malfoy.'

I had to struggle to bite back my laughter, but Hermione seemed simply confused. 'Didn't you go to the Yule Ball with him, Pansy?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Again, not that it's any of your business, but yes. But nothing happened!' she cried. 'He didn't kiss me, didn't even look at or talk to me when we danced. I was just a pretty face in the pictures he'll show to his grandchildren one day,' she sniffed.

Hermione nodded. 'I'll make the potion, Parkinson.'

'If it works, I won't tell. So that had better be a bloody perfect potion, Granger. I expect it after breakfast tomorrow.' With one last smirk thrown our way, Pansy stormed out of the bathroom.

Things certainly took a turn for the interesting that night.

'Well,' Hermione began, 'if you'll excuse me, I have a love potion to make, and they take several hours to boil. I'd best be getting to work, Gin. Good night—er, morning, I suppose.'

'Wait,' I called before she left. 'Did you really have to know who the potion was for before making it?'

Hermione beamed. 'Of course not, I was just curious. But Pansy wouldn't know that.'

I grinned. 'Thought so. Night, Hermione.'

She left, and I stayed behind a minute, admiring the intricate braid I now modeled, and rinsing my face off once more. Lastly, I decided to go to the loo, and that decision changed my life. Literally.

I pushed open the door to the farthest stall, and—there was someone in there, huddled in the corner between the wall and toilet. A disarray of books lay sprawled on the floor.

'I'm sorry,' the girl squeaked, wide-eyed from underneath the hood of her cloak. 'I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just-'

'Luna?' My mouth ran dry. 'What are you doing in here?'

* * *

><p>I had planned to cast the spell that night. The spell that would make it all go away. That was my only agenda.<p>

It had simply never occurred to me that the second-floor girls' bathroom would be such a popular destination at half one in the morning.

I had done my research on memory charms. Although I had been practicing for months simply out of boredom, I wanted to avoid all possibilities of error. Particularly considering I was planning on casting a spell on the entire population of Hogwarts. After sifting through seventeen books and eventually selecting eight to check out of the library, I was satisfied it could not go wrong.

Unless, of course, I was found.

'Luna?' Ginny repeated, looking exceptionally concerned. I suppose I didn't often turn up in situations such as these, and it must have come as a bit of a surprise. Of course, having heard the entire series of events from a moment ago, I had just as much reason to be surprised with her. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' I replied. 'Just dandy. A bit of light reading.'

'Luna. What are you doing.' It was more of a statement rather than a question. Ginny knelt and glanced at the open page in front of me. '"Ten Potential Side Effects of Complex Memory Charms?"'

'I-'

She held up her finger, sifting through all the other books surrounding me. '"Foolproof Ways to Alter the Mind?" "How to Cast a Lasting Non-Memory?" Luna, what's going on?'

'I don't believe you'll want to know that, Ginny.' I began gathering up my books, as it appeared I would need to find a new location.

A wand was at my throat. 'I believe I'll want to know every bit of it,' Ginny threatened.

I had never had a wand at my throat, and I suddenly realized why it was so terrifying. Especially with Ginny Weasley on the other end. I considered her a fairly good friend of mine, and even so, I was frightened out of my mind.

'I'll tell you,' I managed, and Ginny removed her wand.

'You know I wouldn't actually do anything to you, right?' she laughed. 'But that doesn't mean you don't have to tell me,' she added seriously.

I let out a big breath. 'Remember our conversation in Divination, back in,' I thought for a moment, 'October?'

Ginny nodded. 'This has to do with Neville?'

'I need… to forget about him,' I explained, frowning as I realized how silly I sounded. 'It sounds so silly, doesn't it?'

Ginny did the peculiar thing where she looked up at the ceiling and then back at me again. 'One of the more normal things I've heard coming from you. Which makes it all the more concerning. Tell me what's going on, Luna.'

'I kissed him, Ginny.' Her mouth dropped. 'I kissed him in the library,' I continue. 'I made a mistake. I shouldn't have let him know how I feel. It's not fair, not when I can't be with him.'

'Luna. What, you're never going to have a boyfriend before you get married? You feel like you can't be with anyone else until then? That's ridiculous, Luna. No one marries their first boyfriend. It's not worth going mad over. Nothing to be ashamed of. You have plenty of time to be with Neville before you marry….whoever the hell that bloke you saw was.'

'I know it doesn't make sense to you,' I said. 'But a part of me is already in love with him.' I smiled childishly, thinking of Rolf and the Gemini. 'I can't do that to Neville. Above anything else, he's my friend. I would feel like I was lying to him.'

Ginny frowned. 'So the solution is what? Poof? Make the kiss go away?'

'Not just the kiss.' My voice cracked. 'Everything. Our friendship. His feelings for me, most importantly. Every memory anyone has involving me. I've already isolated every incident I have to erase.'

Ginny's eyes were the size of crystal balls. 'Like you were never even there. Like you were never even our friend for the past three years.'

'Like we had never even met.'

'So, every time he asked me to talk to you for him?'

'Poof.'

'Your Christmas party last year?'

'Also poof.'

'You mean Michael Corner won't remember he kissed me?'

I shrugged.

'That was my first bloody kiss, Luna!'

'I'm sorry, Ginny.'

'And…neither will Harry?'

'Well, you'll just have to do it again, won't you?' I grinned mischievously. After a brief pause, I added, 'I didn't know you felt that way about him, Ginny. I'm sorry. I would've had him ask you to the Ball if you'd ever told me.'

Unacknowledging, she was silent for a moment longer, not-quite-smiling at me. 'I'd be mad if I let you do this, Luna.'

I smiled wistfully. 'If only you had a choice.'

Ginny frowned. 'You hadn't considered just telling Neville the truth?'

The thought had occurred to me, but I didn't want to ruin things between us. What I really needed was to start from scratch. A blank slate. I needed another chance for a friendship with Neville, and nothing more.

'I know it doesn't make sense to you,' I told her. 'But it's what I have to do. I need another chance.'

Ginny's eyes narrowed. 'You weren't planning on putting the spell on me, too, were you?'

'Well, I would have had to, but-'

'Don't. I'll leave you to your bloody- whatever the hell you're doing. I think you're bonkers.' Ginny was really starting to get mad at this point; she had stood up and was now pacing between stalls furiously. 'I really do. You're barking mad. But I'll keep quiet. My memories and I will shut the hell up.' She ran her fingers through her hair. 'I'm doing this for Neville, not for you.' She took a shaky breath. 'You know, I never used to know why they called you Loony. I thought your creatures, while they were a stretch, they were harmless! I was your friend, Luna. I liked you. But you're a lunatic. You just do whatever the hell you feel like, no matter how preposterous! This wouldn't make sense to anyone but you! This is insane. This has got to be illegal in eight thousand ways. And I'm insane for letting you do it.'

'Ginny, I-'

'Don't.' She pointed her finger at me accusingly. 'You may get another fucking chance from everyone else, but don't expect one from me.'

And with that, she was gone in a whirl.

I had never been yelled or cursed at before.

It didn't feel nice.

I almost changed my mind.

But it didn't make sense to me.

I met Neville Longbottom for his first time the following year, along with Harry Potter, who could now see the thestrals, and the rest of their friends.

My friends from my early years at Hogwarts had forgotten me, and, while they had already formed a tight-knit group, I found myself on the edges again. I was able to befriend them again, and it was almost the same.

Ginny was on the carriage, too, glowering at me.

We're on friendlier terms, now. She's mostly forgiven me, but she still tries to persuade me to lift the charm. Tell the truth.

I might, one of these days.

The kiss is still there. I left all of Neville's memories, solid and intact.

I left them as dreams. He would wake up laughing. After all, Luna Lovegood wasn't in the library with him the day he told Harry Potter about the gillyweed. How ridiculous!

He didn't even know her then.

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><p><strong>AN:** Please, please, PLEASE review! It means a lot to me and is extremely helpful. :)

~KaleidoscopeKate


	4. Doubt

**A/N: **Gotta love those times when you literally don't go on FanFiction for 5 months. Merlin's beard. I missed writing these. Well, here you go, chaps! :D

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><p><strong>Doubt<strong>

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><p>Her hair and skin shone brilliantly silver, like the moon. So pale and pure in contrast with the midnight gown that tumbled to the floor, like the sky when it meets the heavens on one end and the earth on the other. The droplets of diamonds on her neck and ears could be nothing but twinkling stars.<p>

Of the many things I envied Harry Potter, she was one of them that night.

Which was ridiculous, of course. She wasn't Harry Potter's date to the Yule Ball. Right? Parvati was.

Somehow, though, that doesn't stop me from dreaming about it, and her, and how beautiful she was.

The only consistency between the dreams and reality, as a matter of fact, is the girl who was unfortunate enough to be my own Yule Ball date, Ginny Weasley.

I was bloody lucky, because Merlin, I was in love with the girl (or, at least, a fourteen-year-old boy's version of love). I figured this Yule Ball thing would be a shot at something, even if she'd only accepted so that she'd get to go to the party one way or another, and I knew she really fancied Potter.

Maybe that's where the dreams came from—I knew she'd rather be with him than me.

We spent most of our time with Hannah, Dean, Seamus, Susan, and a few others in my year. No one particularly interesting. A bit of idle chitchat. I didn't even talk to Ginny, really. She, Hannah, and Susan somewhat separated themselves, I remember, and I was wildly jealous of the fact that they were giggling and pointing and blushing at the Durmstrang blokes.

'So, erm, who do you think'll…you know, win the tournament?' I managed in an effort to distract Dean and Seamus from ogling the Beauxbatons girls. Although, I had to admit I doubted whether my efforts were worthy. They were like bloody Veelas. Every single one.

'Fleur Delacour,' Dean responded immediately, his eyes dazed and widened by the dizzying sight of the tall, thin blonde.

I rolled my eyes and did my best not to stare. I had to at least _try _and be a gentleman. It was funny, though, because the person I was trying to impress was the only one who didn't appreciate it.

'I've got it,' she snapped. 'People will think we're dating if you go around holding doors for me.'

'Oh,' I replied stupidly, but didn't move. 'But aren't you my date to the-'

'Honestly, Neville.' Her tone stung, but she was smiling so playfully that it was hard to be too hurt.

'You do look beautiful tonight,' I told her, letting her hold the door as I went through. (I know, I know, but had I argued about it, we would've been standing there all night.)

She rolled her eyes and flipped her hair, which was just a shade or two more orange than her crimson gown. 'Oh, save it.' The large wooden door swung shut behind her, and we were at the top of a staircase that descended down to the dance floor.

I lingered in the hallway for a moment longer. 'I mean it, Ginny. Thanks for coming with me tonight.'

She eyed me, as if unsure whether or not she should be laughing. 'You're welcome,' was the soft response she finally settled upon, then added, 'You don't look half bad yourself.'

And with that, she adjusted the strap of the small copper pouch slung across her shoulder and pranced away to join Hannah and Susan. And I followed.

We danced, and talked, and sat with friends, and danced some more. I knew it would only make me miserable, but I felt myself…falling more in love with her.

There was no way she could feel the same way. It was doubtful, at best. But...I knew how I felt.

And I just thought…shit.

Later, when the lights had dimmed significantly, and the windows had all been charmed to constantly portray a sunset over the snow-and-evergreen-covered hills, the orchestra brought out the slowest, romantic songs. Couples paired off and I could see things were going to start turning into a real snog fest soon.

Neither Ginny and I were quite comfortable with that.

'Do you want me to get you a drink?' I offered politely.

She shook her head. 'Let's just step out for a minute. Honestly, we don't want to watch that.' She wrinkled her nose at the dance floor.

So we made our way through the hormonal crowd and out onto a balcony, full of people who'd apparently had the same idea as we had. Ginny took one look and grabbed my hand, leading me back into the dance hall.

I was about to protest, but then she took a sharp right, leading me back up the stairs we'd entered from. I glanced around, nervous that we'd be spotted by one of the professors, but they all seemed to preoccupied with making sure no one got pregnant that night.

'Where are we going?' I asked.

'No students to leave the ballroom,' Peeves cackled joyfully, suddenly appearing behind us and scaring the jeepers out of me. 'Off goes Peeves, off to go tell Dumblydore!'

'You will do no such thing, Peeves,' Ginny said calmly.

'Or what?' Peeves sneered.

'Or else I'll get Fred and George to stop helping you with all your pranks, and you won't be able to do a single thing on your own,' she smiled.

'I will too!' he whined like a small child.

'Not with those hands,' she laughed. 'Anything you tried to use would fall right through them.

Peeves wailed atrociously. 'Evil weasel, Weaselette, peeving Peeves with scorn for death!'

As we proceeded up the narrow spiral staircase to the Astronomy tower, we could still hear his fits of moaning and rage, growing softer and softer in proportion with the music from the ballroom.

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><p>Apparently, I had somewhat of a knack for pissing off ghosts.<p>

'So, what made you think of this place?' Neville asked shyly.

I was hoping he wouldn't ask that. Honestly, I wasn't blind. I knew how he felt about me, at least in this twisted version of reality. Thanks, Luna. That bitch. The deal with the charm was, you got to relive everything. The new way—which was whatever way she wanted things to be.

But really, I hadn't been meaning to try anything on him. Not in either version of the truth. I had just been looking for a quiet place to escape to. I didn't want to watch Harry with Parvati (not that I _really_ thought anything would happen there, but better safe than sorry), and I didn't want to be suffocated to my death on the crowded balcony.

It was just the first place I thought of, okay? I wasn't trying to…well. Maybe I was, a little. Subconsciously. Maybe it was my guilty pleasure. I enjoyed toying with hearts.

And everything that happened on that tower was the exact same in both timelines. In the first, he had loved _her_, but she wasn't there. She was with Harry Potter, the boy I wanted to be with. Luna didn't need to rewrite that moment, she told me, because that moment was what had sparked her inspiration for our alternate history. In that moment, she told me, she hadn't been there, and he must've loved me. He _had_ loved me.

Again, thanks a lot, Lovegood. You don't want him so you sic him on me. Real charmer, you were.

I'm still mad at her a lot of the time. But after twenty-something years, it doesn't matter all that much anymore. It matters enough that I beg her to take it back, but not enough that it would change anything—she arranged her world to follow fate. She only rearranged things for her feelings.

Because, finally, she'd found something that wasn't crystal clear, that she couldn't see in her loony-globe. And that was the one thing that couldn't sit well in her unperturbable mind.

I remember I blushed at his question. 'My…my brothers tell me how they sometimes take girls up here.'

'Trying to pull something on me, Gin?' he teased, laughing.

I let my hair fall in front of my face so that it hid my embarrassed grin. 'I knew you'd say that.'

'I'm just kidding,' he added quickly.

'I know.'

It was silent for a moment. I rested my elbows on the ledge and peered down. The tower was so tall, I could see Hogsmeade and its lights and nightlife, and remembered the conversation we'd had—or hadn't had—there.

'So, what kinds of things would Fred say to Katie Bell?' Neville wondered aloud.

I grinned. 'Oh, it's absolutely horrid. I hear the pair of them practicing all the time.'

'Well, let's hear it,' he chuckled.

'Okay.' I cleared my throat, tucked a strand of hair, and put on my best Fred-trying-to-be-seductive face, which really looked more like constipation. 'If you were a Dementor,' I said, waggling my eyebrows, 'I'd do the Unforgivable just to get your kiss.'

Neville cracked up. 'You're right, that's atrocious.'

'Oh, there's more,' I informed him. 'Try this: "You don't even have to use _Lumos_ to turn me on.'

'Please, stop,' Neville beg-laughed, pretending to be horridly scarred.

'All right, all right. But that really even wasn't the worst of them, trust me,' I told him, shaking my head.

'I'm sure,' he conceded, 'knowing Fred and George. But I really don't need to hear them.'

'I wasn't tempted to share,' I assured him.

We were silent.

'Well, damn,' he said a moment later. 'Now I'm curious.'

I cracked up, and gave in to telling him the dirtiest of my brothers' magical pick-up-lines. They were outright revolting.

After a while we'd collapsed on the ground, leaning up against the brick wall. I'd hiked my dress up enough so that I didn't ruin it but not so much that anything showed. Neville had simply said, 'oh, screw it' about keeping his dress robes from getting dirty.

From our new angle on the ground, we saw that someone had stashed a bottle of Firewhiskey behind a potted plant, which we promptly took and consumed. Losers, weepers, as they say.

We both became a bit tipsy, I more so than he. We babbled and laughed about nonsense in the way drunk teenagers (or drunk _anybodies_) do, then before I knew what was happening, he took my cheeks between his hands and kissed me.

Well, tipsy or not, I knew it was a problem. He pulled away quickly, though, and I began, 'Neville-'

'Gin,' he interrupted, gazing into my eyes in an absolutely terrifying way. 'you know….I….,' his breath was uneven and I could literally hear his heart pounding. 'I love you.'

'Neville,' I said again, less calmly, more firm. I pushed away his hands and scooted away a few inches. 'We're just friends. That's all we've ever been. You mean loads to me, but not like that.'

He nodded quickly, his eyes filling up with tears that he held back like a champ. 'Of course. You're right. I don't know what I'm saying. We're just friends.' He smiled overenthusiastically and stood up, not bothering to offer me his hand in the overly-chivalric way he'd been acting all night. I was thankful for that.

'Well,' he chirped in an almost-convincing cheery way, 'we'd best get back to the Ball, I suppose. It'll be over before long.' He tried to take a step, and wobbled for a second or two before falling to the ground.

I groaned, because the headache which had been a minor irritation for the past few minutes was suddenly a throbbing pain. We were more drunk than I'd realized. 'Nev, we're trashed,' I told him. 'We can't go back in there, Snape'll know right off the bat. We ought to stay out here until the ball is over.'

It was horribly awkward, him having confessed his love and being rejected, but I'd preferred it to getting detention, or expelled, or receiving a Molly-Weasley-Howler.

'Right. You're right, Gin,' he mumbled, then plopped back down beside me. I doubted the sincerity of his friendship for months after that. Maybe it had only been a crush, but I liked to think we'd been friends.

We spent the rest of the night more or less in silence.

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><p>It <em>was<em> mad, and I was starting to see that now. But I'd made too many mistakes. Going to the Yule Ball with Harry. It was only as mates, nothing more, but it was a mistake. Kissing Neville. A terrible mistake.

So, it never happened. I met them in my fourth year on the carriage with the thestrals. During the Yule Ball, I was curled up in Ravenclaw tower with the latest research paper on domesticating wild Nargles.

But I was starting to wonder if it was worse to hurt Ginny that way. Well, not wonder- she'd made it clear. But I was beginning to doubt my actions.

And doubt, the grey area, doesn't bode well with me.

She now had two, twisted versions of reality. One of the worlds was the one that had really happened, and the other was stories, the product of my imagination.

My hand trembled countless times as I held the wand, prepared to reverse the charm. But at this point, something that had changed nothing had the potential to change everything.

So I've still done nothing.

I first met Rolf when I was twenty-seven. I knew it would happen, too. I'd seen it, so I just sat on a bench waiting for him that day. Reading the paper. And when he finally walked by and asked me where the Crumple-Horned-Snorkack exhibition was, I knew exactly what to say.

Knowing things that others don't is what puts me at ease. Seeing fragments of the future feels eerily omniscient, in a wonderful way. I don't think I could ever go back.

I did consider it for a while. Being a Seer, that is. Professor Trelawney pushed me to.

Until I saw that it wasn't meant to be.

And when I had only just turned fourteen, the Seer part of me had already become so destructive that I'd robbed my friends of their own minds.

Now, I see how mad it was. I see how a lot of things were mad that didn't seem that way before.

Not the Snorkacks, of course.

But when wrong is done, it's best to leave it done and not change it more. I wish I'd realized that before I cast the charm.

But what's done is done.

For now, I suppose. One never knows when they've got more learning to do.

'Lu?'

'Hello, you,' I answer distractedly as my husband rests his hand on my shoulder and peers out the window in front of us.

'What are you looking at?'

'Just the sky,' I tell him.

'But it's all dark. You can't see a thing. It's too cloudy for stars.' He may understand me more than most, but it amuses me how baffled he still is sometimes.

'I can never not see a thing,' I laugh. 'Look at all that,' I say, gesturing to the window. Because I see everything. The wind, the clouds, and all the life that fills it-both metaphorical and literal; I most certainly see a Clorkey or two out there.

He chuckles. 'I love you so much.'

'I love you too,' I smile, pulling his arms around my neck. 'Rolf?' I turn to look him in the eye.

'Mm?'

'If you could change anything about your life, would you?'

He bites his lip, then looks at me with a sly smile. 'I'd have met you sooner!' he exclaims.

I giggle, and we look out at the window for a while. I take the moment of peace, the moment without regret, for what it is.

'Me neither.'

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><p><strong>AN: **I hope you can find it in your lovely hearts to forgive my abandonment. I'LL CHANGE MY NEGLECTING WAYS! :)

50 House points to reviewers!

~KaleidoscopeKate


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